


Maybe

by Faramirlover



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Barely Implies Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faramirlover/pseuds/Faramirlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life goes on. Or maybe everything has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Challenged to write a fic inspired by random song on iTunes before the song finished. Un-beta'd.

The hallways of new MI6 are dark and echoing now. They once bustled with people happily chattering and complaining and laughing but that’s all gone now.

Or maybe that’s just him.

Maybe they are happy but they stop talking when he passes by. Their heads drop and they scurry off to work and chat and live and love somewhere far away from his empty gaze. Maybe.

M is definitely quiet but he doesn’t know if that’s M’s own feelings or if he doesn’t want to give his best agent a reason to lash out by acting like everything’s normal. There’s so much he’s not certain of anymore.

Life moves on around him but he just stays the same. Or maybe he’s changing, but not in a good way and everyone else is just too polite to mention that his suits don’t fit so well anymore and his aim is off and he’s failing more missions than he’s completing and other agents are being sent in to clean up after him and it’s become an endless cycle of sex and drink and work and more drink. Maybe this is what it was always like but he just didn’t notice until now.

But there are jobs to do and the world doesn’t suddenly start working in peaceful harmony just because 007 is falling apart at the seams.

He steps into Q-branch and for a few seconds he sees dark curls and thick glasses before he blinks.

“Quartermaster.”

 A blonde ponytail swishes as the new quartermaster, quartermaster, not Q, never will call her Q, turns and begins rattling off safety information about his new gun. He barely hears anything she says, but catches sight of a familiar smile out of the corner of his eye and barely stops himself turning to look at empty space.

Sometimes he feels like he’s going to go mad. Maybe he already has.


End file.
